One Night In Bangkok
by Sainte Matthewe
Summary: In chess, if you are naive, you become a pawn, but even pawns have power, as a young Oracle soon finds out.


One Night In Bangkok  
  
By Sainte Matthewe  
  
Author's Note: From the musical Chess, lyrics and music for "One Night in Bangkok" written by Tim Rice, Benny Anderson, and Bjorn Ulvaeus. Brad Crawford, Schwarz, and related terms are copyright by Project Weiss. Semi- warning: A not quite there spoiler for the final episode. and I tweaked the ending of the anime to fit. ^^;;;  
  
***  
  
Bangkok, Oriental setting  
  
And the city don't know what the city is getting  
  
The crème de la crème of the chess world in a  
  
Show with everything but Yul Brynner  
  
The young American, Brad Crawford, plucked his wire-rim glasses from the end of his nose, and began cleaning them. It was his only nervous habit. As a product of the best education money can buy, he shouldn't have any. but they had been making him wait forever for a simple interview.  
  
"Mister Crawford?"  
  
The young man paused, looking up. An octogenarian of aware eyes and straight back stood framed in the doorway. Immediately, Crawford replaced his glasses. "Yes, sir." He replied, extending his hand.  
  
With a grandfatherly smile, the elder shook his hand. "A Yale man?"  
  
"Ah. yes. How did you know?" Outwardly, Crawford was mildly surprised, but he was really mentally reprimanding himself. Shame on you, boy! You let your guard down! You should have seen this coming!  
  
Another indulgent smile from the ancient gentleman. "It was my Alma Mater."  
  
Time flies-doesn't seem a minute  
  
Since the Tirolean Spa had the chess boys in it  
  
All change-don't you know that when you  
  
Play at this level, there's no ordinary venue.  
  
Its Iceland-Or the Philippines- Or Hastings-Or-  
  
Or this place!  
  
A tiny smile betrayed Crawford's pleasure. The interview had gone better than he Foresaw, and an organization more secretive than the Knights Templar had hired him for a prestigious international job. "Gentleman flunky" the old coot had laughingly described it as he pushed the younger man onto the plane to Japan.  
  
Japan. Or more specifically, Tokyo. That's where he was now, watching the false glitter of the Ginza pass. He shifted on the soft suede upholstery. Correction. He was in Tokyo, watching the lights of the Ginza pass from the most luxurious limousine that he ever had the privilege to ride in, even as accustom to luxury as he was.  
  
One night in Bangkok and the world's your oyster  
  
The bars are temples but the pearls ain't free  
  
You'll find a god in every golden cloister  
  
And if you're lucky than the god's a she  
  
I can feel an angel sliding up to me.  
  
Sunlight assaulted the young Crawford's eyes as it streamed through the window. Besides that little annoyance, he was completely contented. Not only did he get his dream job but the previous held a fine meal served by a lovely tea girl. The games he and the tea girl left him pleasantly fatigued. Life was good. No. Life was not good; it was fan-freaking- tastic. He felt like royalty.  
  
Not that he was treated poorly in the Sates. Being the son of a senator certainly had its perks. but there were other things to think about, now that he had broken his fast (1) and dressed. He was going to meet his co-workers.  
  
One town's very like another  
  
When your head's down over your pieces brother.  
  
It's a drag; it's a bore, it's really such a pity  
  
To be looking at the board, not looking at the city.  
  
Waddia mean? Ya seen one crowded, polluted, stinking town-  
  
A year later, Crawford wasn't nearly so gullible. When Esset started treating him like a crown prince, and not simply very well, they wanted something. Who needed precognition, when grandpa was so transparent? Why bother when you knew exactly whose king was in check, and whose pawn was about to be captured.  
  
Tea, girls, warm and sweet  
  
Some are set in the Somerset Maugham Suite  
  
Get Thai'd! You're talking to a tourist  
  
Whose every move's among the purest.  
  
I get my kicks above the waistline, sunshine.  
  
A vision of blood, an impressive meal, and a tea girl, all set up in his private suite at the hotel. It was someone's death that Esset wanted. Crawford rolled his eyes, and sat down to his fine dinner. He didn't really feel like killing anyone, but why let a fine repast go to waste?  
  
One night in Bangkok makes a hard man humble  
  
Not much between despair and ecstasy  
  
One night in Bangkok and the tough guys tumble  
  
Can't be too careful with your company  
  
I can feel the devil walking next to me  
  
He had followed his orders. He knew no other way. He was the hand making the moves, and he did not like it. There was something bothering him. No vision came, but a gut feeling that he couldn't resolve. A seat in front of the television, and the morning news resolved it for him.  
  
A city in mourning, and howling for the blood of the foreign devil that could do such a thing. Crawford had killed an innocent man, and never saw it coming. and never questioned his orders to do so.  
  
Siam's gonna be the witness  
  
To the ultimate test of cerebral fitness  
  
This grips me more than would a  
  
Muddy old river or reclining Buddha  
  
And thank God I'm only watching the game-controlling it-  
  
Three years separated the blind fool that first rode in this limo and the all-seeing cynic there now. Richesse (2) and a vision of blood. He knew this was coming. He still did not question orders, that was too damn dangerous. To do so would jeopardize his control. Why throw the game now, especially since it was Esset's king who was in check.  
  
In chess, even pawns had power, and Weiss had regained most of their pieces. Hopefully, they would be bright enough to see the correct moves as clearly as Crawford could.  
  
I don't see you guys rating  
  
The kind of mate I'm contemplating  
  
I'd let you watch, I would invite you  
  
But the queens we use would not excite you  
  
So, you'd better go back to your bars, your temples, your massage parlours-  
  
The king had been cornered by the pawns (or were they knights?) and forced to make a final stand. Checkmate. The killing blow came from an unexpected source. Game over.  
  
Crawford saw it all, and was unmoved. He owed this company of madmen nothing. He would stay only long enough to quell suspicions, and then withdraw from the game, maintaining his dignity.  
  
One night in Bangkok and the world's your oyster  
  
The bars are temples but the pearls ain't free  
  
You'll find a God in every golden cloister  
  
A little flesh, a little history  
  
I can feel an angel sliding up to me.  
  
The building crumbled behind him, and his companions watched it fall, while he mused over his options. Well, to be exact, two gaped at the sight, openly surprised, and one continued to lick the blade of a knife held close to his face, utterly unimpressed.  
  
"So, vat now?" Japanese with a heavy German accent, from one of the gawkers.  
  
Well, there were a myriad of things he could do now. All the touristy things he missed. After all, he was an American in the mysterious East.  
  
One night in Bangkok makes a hard man humble  
  
Not much between despair and ecstasy  
  
One night in Bangkok and the tough guys tumble  
  
Can't be too careful with your company  
  
I can feel the devil walking next to me.  
  
Or maybe he could go to a festival. Wasn't there one coming up?  
  
Naturally, Crawford couldn't say that aloud. He was still in control of the game, and burdened with responsibilities he didn't want anymore. He looked back at those misfit pieces he'd somehow saved.  
  
Broken his fast, in other words, eat breakfast.  
  
Richesse, richness or luxury. 


End file.
